


Nutritional Requirements; How to Meet Them

by Ji_ajiit



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Food Issues, Gen, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23053609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ji_ajiit/pseuds/Ji_ajiit
Summary: Rumlow knows The Asset needs more calories. What he doesn't know is how to get them in a format The Asset can use.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Nutritional Requirements; How to Meet Them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiteCeilings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteCeilings/gifts).

> WhiteCeilings has a lovely piece about Rumlow ending up with a surprise Bucky back in his life after the Triskelion fell. Reading it, I started thinking about how he would have to get nutrition into The Asset, and how that would be changing as Bucky started to be more present, and then I wrote this instead of sleeping. 
> 
> Not beta'd, characters are not my property, don't put this on other sites. All that good stuff.

There were a million and one things he could have said. So, he kept it short.

"Yo, Rogers, slow your roll for a mo!"

The familiar words, the hundreds of hours in gyms, at the range, out and about in general, had Steve slowing to a halt out of habit - way before his brain kicked in and remembered this wasn't Strike Leader, his backup, occasional wingman, smooth talking battle buddy anymore. Rumlow had already caught up and started talking, though, and habit kept the bigger man still for just long enough.

"Look, man, I gotta know. Who's your vet? Cause there's this stray, right, kinda shaggy, black hair, been hanging around my building, and I know up in Stark Tower you've got some strays that had a rough time of it when they came in..."

"_Fuck let this work,_" Rumlow thought as his mouth ran, trying to get Rogers to understand. Barnes had looked... okay, that first time in the coffeeshop when contact was made for the first time since the Fall. Yeah, he'd needed a shower and a change of clothes, but it wasn't much different from checking in on him in the middle of a mission. This wasn't a mission, though. There were no more missions. There was no backup. There was no on e to call when his Asset started to lose weight. There was no Science Division he could hassle into putting more calories into a drip bag. Fuck, he couldn't call for more of the IV bags, period. It hurt, seeing his Asset, his Omega, getting skinnier when he was _right there_, unable to help. Yeah, Rumlow wasn't an alpha anymore, wasn't a handler anymore, but the habits of close to twenty years didn't just go away.

He'd joined Hydra, in part, because he didn't want to see any more hungry omegas.

When Rumlow had been handler, he'd worked hard to be the best. He wanted the Asset combat ready, and he'd done his best to keep it like that. He'd done his best to keep the grunts from hurting him just for the fun of it. He'd kept the Asset groomed and healthy, bonding him over and over again, knowing it would only last until the end of the mission, knowing it would fuck with his own hormones at the end when they put the Asset back on ice - but he never considered _not_ scent bonding as soon as the Asset was thawed enough.

He'd never let the Asset get this skinny. But Barnes still could only drink water and juice, the occasional small cup of coffee. He could barely keep the juice down if it had pulp. All the food attempts had been disasters, resulting in Barnes puking, panicking about disappointing his alpha, trying to force himself to eat more, puking again, and eventually just... going away in his head. He'd sent Barnes on raids to former hideouts, looking for drip bags and cash before setting them on fire and coming home. Barnes always came back from those runs with empty eyes, though. Brock had realized that couldn't go on. All they'd gotten were three cases of bags; the rest had been unsalvageable. He'd been stretching them as much as he could, cutting down to one infusion a day, having Barnes sit still or sleep as much as possible to conserve his energy; then the Asset would get twitchy and the only remedy was working his body until it could be still again.

It wasn't enough. Brock had woken first this morning, looked at the still-sleeping Barnes. The man's face was gaunt, his hair dull, his breathing still steady but it was only a matter of time. Brock had easily counted ribs the night before during a blowjob, Barnes still wanting, needing to please his alpha despite the fatigue.

So here Rumlow was, chatting with Rogers, making it sound like he had a cat instead of a Barnes that was a bit of a bed hog when sleeping. "_C'mon, Goldie,_" Brock thought desperately, "_work with me here!_"

"Cat looks like he's been in a lot of fights, is down a limb but doing okay, loses his shit a bit when he hears you on the tv, but everything else is going okay. He's losing weight, though, so I was wondering-"

The confusion on Rogers' face lifts suddenly, shock and hope replacing his frown. Rumlow stopped talking to quickly scratch his nose, signaling Rogers to KEEP QUIET, dammit. "_For such a good poker player, how the fuck does he have no control of his face in public?!_"

"So Rogers, yeah, looking for recommendations. Like I said, he's getting skinnier. Otherwise he's doing ok. Any of the geeks owe you? I brought a bag of his fave, but the business that made it is gone as far as I can tell, so I can't get more, but I was hoping you might be able to figure out the ingredients and get some more?" Rumlow trails off, grimacing. Sure, he was going to Captain Perfect, but asking for help still felt... risky. Like Rogers was going to stab him or something.

"_It's for Barnes,_" Brock reminds himself. That's the only reason he would ever try this. Ever.

Rogers has stopped looking like he's going to shout or shoot, so that's good. Rogers takes a moment, rubbing his hands over his face before taking a deep breath to say, "Well, what have you tried?"

Rumlow tugs at the strap to his backpack, "I've got notes on what I've tried in here. Habbout I just give this whole thing to you, its got my new number, you can just call me when you've got that recommendation?" Rumlow slides the bag off his shoulders, ready to lay it on the floor like the loaded weapon it isn't, but Steve steps forward to take it instead, cradling it like a filth-covered kitten.

"Why don't I just come by to drop it off?" Steve asks. "I'd love to see... the Stray you've got."

"_Oh god,_" Brock thinks. "_Dude has gone from the Asset to the Stray. Jesus fuck._" "Eh, call first," Rumlow says aloud. Seeing the utter dejection on Steve's face, he hastens to add, "He doesn't like surprises. Figure I'll let him decide if he wants to be there of if he wants to go run errands or something."

Steve took a small step forward, not acknowledging how Brock shied away. "You... he's not an inside cat?"

Rumlow laughed, bitterly amused. "He's his own, and he was on his own for a while. I'm not going to lock him up. Wouldn't even if I could."

Steve looks equal parts elated and crushed. Rumlow doesn't hold back his sigh.

"Just... call ahead. Okay? He doesn't need spooking. He'll already be spooked when he realizes I talked to you, and I don't want him taking off for another few months. It was hard enough when he first came in." Rumlow does a quick about face, needing to leave before he says any more. He hears the back pack rustle behind him, which is reassuring. Rogers will almost definitely help; it's just a matter of making Barnes feel safe enough he doesn't bolt for one of his new warehouses.

Behind him, so quiet it could almost have been imagined, he hears Steve say, "Thank you."


End file.
